


Shall Themselves Find Blessing

by Quill_lumos



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Explicit Language, M/M, Romance, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-01-03
Updated: 2009-01-03
Packaged: 2018-09-30 11:09:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10161857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quill_lumos/pseuds/Quill_lumos
Summary: Harry has returned to Hogwarts in response to Minerva's plea, but he has never been so lonely, until he rescues a certain someone from the storm. A Snarry Christmas story!





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from SeparatriX, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [HP Fandom](http://fanlore.org/wiki/HP_Fandom_\(archive\)), which was closed for health and financial reasons. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [HP Fandom collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hpfandom/profile).

Disclaimer I do not own anything Harry Potter related, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. It all belongs to JK Rowling, Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Inc., Warner Brothers and their assigns. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

AN: This story was written for the Secret Santa swap at the yahoo group  Severus *sighs*. My giftee was atypicalsnowman and her requirements are below. To see whether I met them or not I’m afraid you’ll have to read the story

Atypical snowman's reqest: Please no chan under 17, no slave or dark!fics, no mpreg (at least not Harry), non-con, or non-happy endings (would love some bottom!Snape but not a requirement)  
Christmas theme: Freshly fallen snow  
One sentence prompt: Relaxing for the first time on this particular day, Severus pulled Harry closer to him as they stared into the fire.  
Requests: Something not overly fluffy but definitely Christmas-y  
Anything else: Surprise me.

A/N: Thanks so much to WhiteCotton, who betaed this story and made it so much better than it was. Hopefully I have managed to get most of your favourite things in my dearest snow! 

 

Shall yourselves find blessing 

 

It was Christmas Eve and Harry had decided to go for a walk. He’d been at Hogwarts since September 1st. Teaching. Harry had never thought he might become a teacher; it just didn’t seem like something he would do, he was meant to fight Dark wizards, at least that was what he’d always thought in the past. However he’d apparently done a good job with the DA, back in his fifth year and Minerva had never forgotten that, so when her need for teachers had become desperate she had called on Harry. 

Harry had been very uncertain about accepting the headmistress’s offer at first, and he’d said no several times. But if he were honest with himself, he’d not been happy as an Auror, not really. Harry was tired, tired and weary. He really didn’t want to fight any more, and once Hermione had persuaded him that he would indeed make a good teacher he’d taken the chance that Minerva offered and said yes willingly enough. 

He wanted to settle down, find someone to love him. When he thought about love, about settling down, Harry’s heart hurt. He’d always thought he would marry Ginny, but that wasn’t to be. Ginny had grown tired of Harry’s prevarication, of his seeming inability to commit. Harry loved Ginny, so he told himself at least, but their relationship was strained, difficult and very unsatisfactory in bed.

The only way Harry could make love to Ginny was if he were picturing someone else. Someone with dark eyes, dark, black hair, someone tall, slim and firm all over. Someone male. The first time Harry had realised it was men that really turned him on he’d panicked, buried his feelings deep down and tried to ignore them. How had he managed not to notice for so long, that he liked boys instead of girls? Maybe it was the fact that the war had got in the way? There’d been no-one he could talk to. Remus was dead and all of Harry’s other relationships centred on the Weasley family in one way or another. He’d finally, in desperation, found himself talking to Kingsley Shacklebolt.

Harry had been mortified. Kingsley was Harry’s boss and he knew that you didn’t have that kind of conversation with your boss, it just wasn’t done. But Kingsley had noticed how distracted Harry was, told him that he was a danger to himself and others; sat him down and forced him to reveal what was wrong. Harry, worn down by worry and self-hatred, had finally told Kingsley everything, well almost everything. There were some things that were just too painful. 

It had been late July and Harry had just come back from a long and gruelling mission, chasing down some of the last few Death Eaters who remained at large. Shacklebolt had dragged Harry out for a meal first and plied him with copious quantities of Ogden’s before he finally cracked, but when he did, Harry told his boss all that he could bear to tell him. 

Kingsley had insisted that it was about time Harry found himself, that he’d given so much for the wizarding world, and now he needed to find out who he truly was and what he wanted from life. Kingsley had suggested a sabbatical for a year or so, to give Harry time to re-charge his batteries and think about those things most men normally did when in their teens. He’d said that Harry’s feelings were not disgusting or perverted, as Harry, heavily influenced by his upbringing and saturated in prejudice, had believed. For the first time since he could remember he’d actually felt hopeful, felt that he was normal and that things would be all right, especially as Kingsley had unknowingly echoed Hermione’s advice about moving on from the Aurors. 

But Ginny had disagreed. She had been furious with him, called him every name she could think of and thrown him out of their shared flat, the flat that he’d bought and paid for, but which he’d gifted to her. Homeless, sad and lonely, Harry had been glad to end up here, back at Hogwarts. The only place that had ever truly felt like home.

Neville had been at Hogwarts for some time already, happily replacing Sprout in the greenhouses. Molly Weasley was here too, teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts, at first Harry had worried that she wouldn’t want to see him after what had happened with Ginny. But Molly had told him he was like a son to her, whether he was with Ginny or not and that had helped Harry make the final decision to say yes. 

There were vacant posts in Muggle Studies, Charms and Potions, Minerva had told him, they were hard to fill as so many people were employed elsewhere, enjoying the boost that the end of the war had given the economy. She’d also needed someone to support her in tutoring Transfiguration and since all the posts were empty she had let Harry choose.

The thought of teaching Potions had really tickled Harry’s sense of humour. But at the last minute, Minerva had persuaded Slughorn to stay on for just a few more months. So Harry had chosen Muggle Studies. His Charms and Transfiguration skills were okay, but Harry liked the idea of teaching Muggle Studies. He’d decided to completely redesign the subject so that Wizarding traditions could be taught to Muggleborns whilst wizard-raised children were taught Muggle traditions at the same time. In this way, Harry hoped he could help break down some of the barriers that had been built up and which had, Harry believed, contributed to the rise of Voldemort and the subsequent wars. 

Of course because she was so short staffed, Harry had ended up sharing Transfiguration with Minerva anyway. The Charms post had finally been filled by a rather insipid young wizard who’d attended Beauxbatons. 

At first he’d worried about how the other Weasleys would treat him. Even though Molly had been so accepting, he’d still had his doubts about how Ron would react, but he need not have been anxious as all of the family had had been so sweet to him, kind and protective. Harry knew, however, that Ginny would always come first with them, which of course she should do, as she was a real Weasley. That was why he was here, on his own, on Christmas Eve. He hadn’t thought it would be fair on Ginny and so had gently refused Molly’s invitation to spend Christmas at The Burrow. But it was the first time since the war had ended that Harry had been alone at Christmas and he couldn’t help feeling sorry for himself. That was why he was taking a walk now; to try and clear his head and chase away the melancholy thoughts. 

He was going to have dinner with Ron and Hermione, they were joining him in his rooms at six pm, but he was not looking forward to it. Hermione was worried about him and so was Ron, and he just knew they were going to look at him with anxiety writ clear in their eyes and talk about inconsequentialities while careful to avoid any mention of Ginny. And Harry would feel more lonely than ever.

He sighed.

The sky was dark and heavily laden, auguring that bad weather was on the way. Not that Harry minded; they suited his mood, those graphite skies. He was alone. No one was outside on this bleak winter afternoon except for him and one lonely crow which circled overhead.

Harry made his way down towards the lake and stood for a while watching the still, slate-grey water. If the squid was about today, he wasn’t anywhere near the surface. Memories assaulted him from every direction. Dumbledore’s tomb was close by and Harry debated wandering in that direction, but in the end he decided to circle the Forbidden Forest, close to Hagrid’s Hut. This was where the memorial fountain had been built, standing as an almost silent testimonial to those who had died, the constant trickle of water keeping the memories alive. The little arbour was named after ‘Agnes the Aggressive’. She had been a feisty witch from the middle-ages who had refused to be married off to a man who was not only much older than she was, but who’d been rumoured to be part troll. She had ended up hitting her father with a broomstick after he’d insisted on dragging her up the aisle, and then jumping astride it and flying off to freedom. She had become a teacher at Hogwarts eventually and had defended her class from some long-forgotten danger. 

But Harry doubted the deeds of those whom the fountain commemorated would be forgotten, for they were engraved, for all to see, around the base. The glade was surrounded by gorse and fenced on one side by the forest to form a very peaceful, serene place. It was an idyll for recollection and Harry headed there now. But whilst he had enjoyed the relative shelter afforded at the lake, the wind had picked up and it had definitely turned colder. Harry walked along the edge of the Forbidden Forest, hunkering into his coat and pulling his woolly hat (knitted by Molly Weasley) close over his ears.

He kept his head low, against the gathering wind, and realised as he walked that he was now uncertain of the distance to the castle. He lifted his head to see exactly where he was and saw ahead of him a hunched, dark figure in a ragged cloak, obviously male from the height and build. That puzzled Harry. As far as he was aware there was no-one living this close to the forest. Who would be out, on an afternoon like this?

Harry shivered, it had definitely turned colder. He debated following the man to see who he was but the afternoon had turned dark and from the leaden skies there came the first flakes of snow. With a mental shrug, he headed back to the castle.

 

****************** 

 

The rest of the day seemed to drag by, and just as he had surmised, even Ron and Hermione’s visit didn’t cheer him up. Ron tried his best, telling Harry about the varied customers who’d visited Weasleys Wizarding Wheezes in the past few months and some of the peculiar things that they wanted. Hermione regaled Harry with tales of her studies and her interactions at Oxford, where she was reading law. She planned to be a barrister and take on the inequities in the magical community by tackling the Wizengamot head-on. She had often talked for hours about how unfair laws were in the wizarding world, that what had happened to Sirius, for example, should never have been allowed to take place. Harry didn’t disagree, but he didn’t dare get her started on house-elf rights because she could go on for hours.

Of course then he would feel guilty, because he _was_ proud of Hermione and knew she would make a wonderful lawyer, but he just didn’t think he could cope right now with her intensity. Harry simply felt too sad. Nothing had happened the way he’d anticipated. After the last battle, Harry had hoped to settle down and marry Ginny and have lots of kids, to have a happy ending like the one Ron and Hermione seemed to be enjoying. But, if he were honest, he knew that was never going to happen, not now.

He smiled though and he laughed and pretended that he was fine. Ron and Hermione had finally Flooed away, clutching Harry’s presents for the Weasleys and leaving a pile of brightly wrapped gifts in return, wishing him a very happy Christmas over their shoulders as they left.

Harry popped the parcels under the tree in his sitting-room and went to bed.

 

***************************** 

 

He awoke to a world covered in thick, white snow. Harry’s rooms were high up in the Gryffindor tower, giving wonderful views of the grounds, right over to the forest and encompassing Agnes’s Glade and the fountain. As he gazed, rapt, at the postcard scene and arched the night’s kinks from his spine, his eyes were drawn to a solitary black speck. The dark figure was moving along, against the outline of the forest, and seemed to be gathering wood. But it was so cold out there and still snowing. It was the man from last night, Harry was sure of it, and he decided to go and help whoever he was. He got dressed as quickly as he could, pulling on his warmest boots and the thick blue duffle-coat that Ginny had made him buy last winter. He knew he would be grateful for it outside but he didn’t want to think about Ginny right then. Hermione had told him Ginny was dating Dean again, that she seemed happier now. That Harry was right not to go to The Burrow, things were simply too raw; it would be better next year, she’d said, and Harry believed her. But he still had this Christmas to get through first and a distraction was just what he needed.

Harry ran downstairs. There was hardly anyone left at Hogwarts this year. The castle had taken three years to be rebuilt and this was the first proper term, parents were still extra protective of their children and almost everyone had gone home. But Minerva was still here. She met Harry in the entrance hall. “Good morning, Mr Potter. Happy Christmas. Where are you off to in such a hurry?”

“Hi, Professor. Happy Christmas to you, too,” he said, tugging on his gloves. “I’m off to the fountain, there’s someone out there, collecting wood or something.”

McGonagall flushed and looked away. “Professor, what is it? Do you know who it is?”

Harry could have kicked himself, of course she knew who the person was, she was the headmistress, and anyone staying on Hogwarts’ grounds would have to tell her. She’d have to give permission wouldn’t she?

“I’d rather you didn’t go out there and disturb him, Harry,” she said, “He does value his privacy.” 

Harry looked at his ex-Head of House. She couldn’t seem to meet his eyes.

“Tell me who it is, and I’ll give him his privacy.” Harry had a very strong feeling that he knew exactly who Minerva was protecting, but he needed to have those feelings confirmed.

“It’s Severus Snape.”

“Snape!” Harry breathed, “I knew it. Why are you protecting him?”

Minerva’s eyes met Harry’s this time with a steady, clear gaze. “Don’t you think he deserves protection?”

“I do,” Harry said seriously, “it just doesn’t seem like a lot of people agree with me. I wondered where he’d gone after the trials, why on earth did he come here?”

Minerva’s eyes had softened. “He didn’t have anywhere else _to_ go. The Wizengamot might have cleared him after your testimony, but too many people don’t trust him, too many people thought he got away lightly. I can’t even let him teach here.”

“But that’s terrible. He’s a hero, he should be rewarded, we should all be grateful to him.”

“I know,” Minerva’s voice was sad, “but it’s not up to me Harry, all I could do was offer him somewhere to stay and the protection from being hexed or attacked that being in the grounds of Hogwarts affords.”

“Where _is_ he staying?”

“There is a shed, just on the edge of the forest, beside the fountain in Agnes’s Glade.”

Harry knew it, he’d seen it. It was broken down and ramshackle. It made the Shrieking Shack look like Buckingham Palace in comparison. He’d assumed that Hagrid kept animal feed there or something, it wasn’t a suitable place to live, not for anyone, not for a hero and definitely not a home for Severus Snape.

“Let’s go and get him. He shouldn’t be alone at Christmas.”

“Severus is used to being alone, Harry. It’s all he’s ever known.”

“But Professor.” Harry winced at his tone, he sounded like a whiney teenager and not like the mature twenty-year-old that Harry had worked hard to become.

“Harry, he wanted peace and privacy. I think we owe him that at least,” she said with finality. 

Harry wasn’t happy about it, but he allowed the Headmistress to lead him away, scowling and trying to suppress a pang of guilt. Severus Snape had helped save them all; he had done more than anyone else, suffered more than anyone else. It wasn’t right that he should be skulking around in robes that, even from a distance, were obviously shabby, and living in a shed that was barely enough shelter most of the time and totally inadequate for weather such this. 

Harry thought about Snape all day: when he joined the few remaining students and the teachers for a lavish breakfast, when he returned to his room and couldn’t quite bring himself to open his presents, when lunchtime came and he headed back down to join the others. Slowly, so slowly, the day wound on and outside the soft snowfall of the morning turned heavier, the wind picked up again and the first snow of the year became a blizzard. 

Finally, with the light fading fast outside, Harry decided he’d had enough. He hadn’t promised Minerva that he wouldn’t go and get Snape, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to retrieve the man without telling her first.

“Harry, you can’t go, it’s wild out there,” Minerva said.

“I can’t not go, it’s not right. A dog shouldn’t be in that shack alone tonight, never-mind Snape, and the castle is warm and cosy,” Harry explained. “I owe him my life, several times over, and I won’t let him be treated like this.”

“He’s been living there for the last three years Harry, since the final battle. He’s got nowhere else to go.”

“But his house, didn’t he have a house somewhere?”

“It was suggested that he donate it so that the monies from the sale could be distributed to good causes,” she said, her disgust clear.

“But he didn’t owe anything to anyone!” Harry was indignant 

“The Wizangamot disagreed.”

“The bastards!”

“Indeed.”

“That settles it. I’m going to get him.” Harry summoned his duffle-coat and put it on, only to see McGonagall draping herself with a thick robe made in Black Watch tartan. “What are you doing?”

“If you are going to get Severus, I’m coming with you,” she said, “Do you really think that I would let you go and face Severus Snape alone?”

“Do you think that he’ll be cross?” Harry asked.

“No, Mr Potter. I think he’ll be absolutely furious.”

Visibility outside was very poor indeed and Harry wondered if he’d made the right decision. Minerva was huddled behind him, which didn’t strike Harry as particularly sensible; he wasn’t much bigger than her after all. Harry squared his shoulders and set off in the direction of the Forbidden Forest. All around him the storm raged and the snow fell thickly, but somehow the path that Harry was following seemed clear. The snow wasn’t so thick along it and the flakes didn’t seem to be as large or falling quite as heavily.

However, it still seemed to take much longer than usual to get to the fountain. It took Snape even longer to get to the door, despite the fact that Harry banged on it so hard he thought it would come out of its frame. When he did come to the door he almost shut it again, and Harry had to stop him by blocking its closure with his body.

“Potter, what the bloody hell are you doing here?”

“I’ve come to take you back to the castle,” Harry said, despite his teeth clattering because of the freezing cold.

“What makes you think that I’d go? In case it had escaped your notice it is wild out there and I have just managed to get warm. I assure you I am not planning on following you anywhere tonight; or ever if I can help it. I’m done with you for good!”

The man looked dreadful. His hair was matted and stringy, he had dark circles under his eyes, his face was pale and his nose red and chapped. He was wrapped up in tattered robes, with a dirty grey scarf circling his throat. His hands were partially covered in fraying fingerless gloves, his fingers blue with cold. He looked half dead.

“You have a choice Snape, either you follow Minerva and me now and come back up to Hogwarts or I hex you with _Petrificus Totalis_ and float you up there stunned and unable to resist.”

Snape’s lips thinned and his nostrils flared. “Who the fuck do you think you are? You always were an arrogant little snot. How dare you come here to my home, hovel though it might be, and order me to leave?” he thundered.

“Look, Snape, I’m sorry, but I can’t leave you here. It’s freezing and this place might not survive the night.”

Snape’s face contorted into a sneer and he looked as if he were about to say something, no doubt something scathing and cutting. Minerva took a step backwards as the ex-Headmaster drew himself up, presumably ready to deliver some scathing invective. But Harry spoke first.

“Please, sir? Please let us help you?”

Snape appeared to crumple and he looked greyer than ever. He didn’t speak, but his eyes flicked to look at something behind Harry, _someone_ behind him. His eyes were locked with Minerva’s. Finally he nodded and followed them out from the scant security of the shed and into the storm. 

It seemed to take much longer to get back to the castle. It was much darker and the wind had grown even stronger. They couldn’t talk; they could barely even see each other. Harry reached over and took Snape’s hand, he gestured for the other man to hold on to Minerva and the three of them set off for the safety of Hogwarts. Snape’s fingers felt frozen to Harry, slim, bony pieces of ice. At first he tried to pull away, then obviously decided he wasn’t up for the inevitable tussle that would ensue when it was made clear to him that Harry wouldn’t let go. Tenacity was, after all, one of his virtues. Cold weakened a person and Harry was much warmer than Snape seemed to be, snuggled as he was in his duffle, warm which made him stronger that the other man.

Once again the path Harry that they trod seemed far easier than elsewhere in the storm around them, it was if they were protected for some reason. But even so, Harry wasn’t taking any chances, things could change at any moment and the weather seemed to be worsening.

By the time they reached the Entrance Hall, Harry doubted that he would ever get warm again. He couldn’t feel his toes, even though he was wearing three pairs of socks. But he was better off than Snape. Snape was practically blue with the cold. Despite the fact that the three of them had repeatedly cast warming charms, they could only do so much and the intensity of the cold had depleted their magic. 

Snape was shivering violently, he wasn’t looking at Harry or Minerva, his gaze was fixed on the ground, his shoulders hunched. Two Ravenclaws came out of the Great Hall and stopped when they caught sight of the three frozen figures, seemingly frozen themselves. Harry heard them begin to whisper to each other, speculating on the tableaux that Harry and his companions made. Minerva turned to him, “Get him upstairs, Harry. Take him to your rooms and I’ll join you shortly.”

Harry nodded and placed a hand on Snape’s back, meaning to guide him in the direction of his suite, but Snape snarled at him and shook the hand away.

“Don’t touch me, Potter.” He hissed, angrily.

“Please, Professor. Please come with me, we need to get you warm and dry.”

“I wouldn’t need to get dry if you hadn’t insisted on dragging me into a storm.”

“There’s a fire laid in my rooms, it’s warm there – private.”

Snape sneered at him, his dark eyes blazing with something indefinable.

“Please sir, I owe you so much, let me start to pay my debt,” Harry begged softly.

The other man sagged. His head and shoulders drooped, his chin practically burying itself in his chest. It was as if the fight had all gone out of him.

“Whatever, Potter,” he said, flatly.

He allowed himself to be led upstairs, he didn’t comment or resist in any way, he was totally unlike himself; like nothing more than a shadow of the man he’d once been.

 

***************

 

The moment they arrived at his suite, Harry ran the man a bath. Snape was standing on the Turkish rug in front of the fire, dripping pathetically, looking very much the solitary crow that Harry had seen just yesterday or the bat they had once called him. He glared at Harry’s Christmas tree in total disgust.

“Erm, I’ve put some clothes out for you, in the bathroom. If you have a bath it’ll help you get warm.”

Snape looked at Harry steadily as if he were trying to decide something. Finally he inclined his head, just once, as if acquiescing, and without saying anything at all he brushed past Harry and went into the bathroom, shutting the door firmly behind him.

It was thirty-five minutes before he emerged looking totally unlike his usual self. He was wearing Harry’s clothes, a pair of black jogger bottoms that were far too big for Harry and a black jumper that was also too large, both of which were the result of reluctant, therefore too hasty, shopping sprees. Harry didn’t have many black clothes, he tended to wear greens and browns and the occasional primary red or blue. These two items were the best that Harry could provide at such short notice, and that he thought Snape would actually consent to wear. 

The clothes hung on Snape too. They fitted him length-wise, but otherwise he was swamped, having grown so painfully thin.

“Hi, Professor, does that feel better? Fancy a cup of tea and something to eat?”

“Why are you doing this Potter?” Snape asked. He still looked pale and sallow, but the hair framing his face was dark and glossy, shiny and clean. He lifted a hand and brushed back a stray lock behind his ear. Harry gasped. He wondered how soft that hair was. He wanted to touch it and didn’t that feel strange? Snape’s eyes betrayed his puzzlement, his suspicion of Harry’s motives. Harry had never realised how striking his eyes were before.

Snape was beautiful and Harry had never noticed. He had always seen the man as the embodiment of ugliness but that wasn’t true, it never had been had it? Snape had a strength about him, a nobility. 

There was a knock at the door. “Come in,” Harry called.

Minerva entered, followed by a school house-elf carrying a tray laden with tea and scones and what looked like turkey sandwiches.

“Severus, you do look so much better,” she said, smiling.

“Thank you Minerva. I have no idea why I am here though, what on earth does Potter want with me?”

“I don’t think that Harry wants anything, do you Harry?”

Harry shook his head. They were discussing him as if he wasn’t here and he felt like he was about twelve again, sure that any minute now they would be deducting points.

“I just didn’t like the idea of you being stuck in that storm, it’s freezing out there,” he said to Snape, determined to join the conversation and not just be the subject of it.

“It’s been colder than this, Potter. You never cared before now.”

“I didn’t know you were here.” Harry felt indignant. “I only found out today, when Minerva told me. I also found out how badly you’ve been treated. It’s appalling!”

For a second or two Snape almost looked mollified, his dark eyes turned to look at Harry’s, betraying unexpected vulnerability. Then it was as if shutters had descended and his face twisted into a familiar scowl.

“Oh, how wonderful, I think I might have to swoon. I’ll be safe now, Potter the hero comes to my rescue,” he sneered.

Harry felt his own features twist with anger.

But Minerva interrupted, “That’ll do Severus. Come and have some tea, we all need to warm up a bit.”

Snape flushed and glared at the Headmistress. “I am not a child.”

“Then stop acting like one,” she shot back.

If Snape’s glares had been deadly as Harry had once supposed, then Minerva would be a Black Watch-shrouded corpse. 

Minerva however was totally unfazed. Harry supposed that after so many years of teaching alongside the man, she was used to him.

Snape’s scowl deepened but he moved over to sit beside McGonagall on the battered sofa that dominated Harry’s sitting-room.

“It will not matter how warm I get, if I just have to go back out there again, will it?” he finally said in a dull tone. Minerva handed him a steaming hot cup of tea, but she didn’t contradict him.

“What do you mean?” Harry asked.

“Harry, you don’t think that I would have let Severus stay out in that shed if there had been any alternative?”

“Minerva, don’t!” Snape said sharply. “You have helped me more than anyone else has done.”

Harry hadn’t thought about it, but if he were honest it made sense. Of course Minerva would have helped Snape more if it were possible. He flushed. _He_ hadn’t done anything to help Snape had he? Ignorance was no excuse, he should have sought the man out, checked up on him before now.

“Why can’t Snape stay in the castle, he could teach Potions again, he could have his old place back.”

“Severus is not allowed to stay here, the governors forbade it.”

“WHAT! They can’t do that!” Harry felt outraged at the mockery.

“They can and they did, and that is why I shall be heading back to my luxurious little hut very shortly.”

“No way,” Harry hissed, “You just stay right there.” He turned to the Headmistress. “Is that why you won’t have a Potions Professor after Slughorn leaves at Christmas? What does Kingsley have to say about that?”

“The Minister for Magic? Why would he have anything to say about it?” Snape enquired.

“He could change things. If Fudge could appoint Umbridge without anyone wanting her here, then Kingsley could put pressure on the governors on Snape’s behalf.”

“I don’t know the Minister that well!” Minerva said at exactly the same time that Snape said, “Why would anyone want me to teach their children again, now that they’re finally rid of me, I am a dreadful teacher?”

“You were in the order with Kingsley; you could have talked to him about this, he’d have done something.” Harry answered Minerva first and then jabbed a finger in Snape’s direction. “And you shut up and sit down.” Harry was now trembling with fury, desperately wanting to hit someone. 

“You protected this school from the worst of the Carrows’ madness, the least you’re owed is your job back, whether you are a snarky git or not,” he told Snape. He breathed deeply, reigning in his temper. “I’ll write Kingsley a note, he’ll have words with the governors. I’ll threaten to leave. I bet Neville would too.”

“I don’t want him told anything!” Snape stood up, seemingly incensed. “I won’t go begging for scraps from anyone, Potter, I don’t want your support, or Longbottom’s. I’ve earned my place here, brewing potions for the infirmary. It might not be much but it’s my life.”

“It’s not good enough, Snape. You deserve more.” 

Snape looked like he wanted to say something, for a second or two he seemed to be bordering on fury. But then he seemed to deflate, he appeared diminished somehow, like he simply had no fight left.

“Do what you want, Potter,” he sounded so bitter, “You always do.”

“I did try, Harry,” Minerva said, sadly. “Severus…” she looked in the direction of the ex-professor, “…hasn’t exactly made a lot of friends and I don’t have the connections that Dumbledore had.”

“Do you think it will make a difference if I speak to them?” Harry asked her, feeling foolish all of a sudden. Minerva had tried, of course she had. If she couldn’t manage then what made him think _he_ could change things for Snape?

“You’re the Chosen One, Harry. You could probably change anything that you wanted to,” the Headmistress said coolly.

Snape didn’t say anything at all.

He just sat on the sofa, shrouded in Harry’s black jumper, which hung off his thin frame. To Harry he looked broken. He’d given his whole life to defeat Voldemort, been prepared to die – had nearly died – and yet he’d still ended up with nothing, whilst Harry had the world at his feet, at least that’s what they told him anyway. Harry hated his status as a hero; feeling that there were other people more deserving than him. Snape was far more deserving in Harry’s opinion.

“I’m sorry, Snape.” Harry went and sat beside the other man, he wanted to touch him but didn’t quite dare.

“Stay here tonight, Severus, please, I’m worried about you. You need to start taking care of yourself,” Minerva said. “Harry’s right, they won’t dare disagree with The Chosen One.” 

For a second Harry wondered if he’d been manoeuvred into the position in which he’d found himself, rescuer and champion of Snape. He looked suspiciously at Minerva and was sure he saw a glimmer of a twinkle in her eyes.

“I have to leave you both to it, now,” she said, standing and turning to leave. “Christmas is a very busy time at Hogwarts.”

“I think I’ve just been played,” Harry said as she shut the door behind her.

“Welcome to my world, Potter,” Snape replied dryly.

Harry began to giggle. “Don’t you think the whole ‘get Harry to Hogwarts’ thing was real then?” 

“I have no doubt it was, as she did need more teachers, I merely question the presence of an additional motive. I sometimes wonder whether that woman should have been in Slytherin.” He sighed deeply. “I suppose you want me to leave now?”

“What? No, of course I don’t. I’ll sleep on the sofa. You are NOT going back out there tonight.”

“Thank you, Potter.” Snape’s voice was quiet, “I do appreciate it.”

Harry was stunned. Snape had sounded almost human, something he would never have expected. “Do you want some whisky?” he asked to fill the sudden quiet.

The ex-potion’s professor gave Harry a broken kind of smirk. “Go on then, if I’m going to spend the evening with you, I’ll need all the help I can get.”

Harry scowled and went to get the whisky. At least he sounded more like his snarky self now.

Harry poured them both a generous glass of malt and gave one to Snape. He didn’t normally drink the stuff, didn’t like the taste, but somehow he felt the occasion called for it.

“It doesn’t matter if she did trick me into getting you here and saying that I’d talk to Kingsley, it’s the right thing to do. I really didn’t know how badly you were treated and now I do I won’t let it continue. They call me hero, but you did more than I did, and for years and years. That kind of courage,” his voice cracked slightly, “I…I don’t know how you did it, every time he called you to him you could have died. It wouldn’t have been a kind death either; he’d have tortured you if he ever found out.”

“I assure you, Potter I was well aware of that.”

“You still did it though, didn’t you? That makes it even braver if you ask me.”

“There wasn’t anything else to be done.” Snape contemplated his glass for a long while before continuing, not looking at Harry. “I had much for which to atone. I am truly sorry for what happened to your mother and to James, who despite his earlier mistakes was a good man in the end. And I’m sorry that you had the childhood that you did. I thought Albus was wrong, that it didn’t have to be that way.”

“It doesn’t matter now,” Harry said, feeling rather touched by Snape’s sincere speech. “I’m all grown-up.”

Snape snorted. “Of course you are, Potter.”

“Do shut up, you sarcastic bastard.”

“I wasn’t being sarcastic, I meant it. You have grown up very well, very well indeed.”

Harry was sure that his jaw dropped, probably making him look even more gormless than usual. _Snape_ was complimenting him.

“Look you can still stay, you don’t have to be nice to me.”

“Potter, when have you ever known me to be _nice?_ I am being honest about how I see you; I assure you I am not being nice.”

“Oh, Right. Well it seems like you are being nice-ish anyway. I mean you’re not being cutting or sarcastic as you normally are to me.”

“I have come to regret how I treated you when you were a child. There was a need to keep my distance, to make The Dark Lord think that I hated you. However, I wish that I had not thrown myself into the role with such relish. I know, having shared my memories with you, that you have learned the truth about my part in the death of your parents. I know that you know everything that I did, everything that happened to me, everything that I caused to happen to you. Yet you don’t seem bitter, you don’t seem to hate me. I find that quite remarkable.

“I got you wrong, Harry. You are far more like your mother than I ever thought you might be. After what you’ve been through, by all rights, you should be bitter and twisted and full of hate. Yet you are not, there is something very attractive about that. Your forgiveness could become addictive.”

Harry didn’t know what to say to that. “Are you _Imperiused?”_ he finally managed.

“No Potter, I am not. I simply feel I have been given another chance. There is nothing else which would have worked so well tonight. I had decided my course, I was set on it. Then you arrived, blown in by a blizzard, with those big green eyes of yours and your hero’s heart and you would not let me go. You dragged me here and defended me. I have no doubt you will take on the magical world for me and that they will crumble before you, just like _He_ did. It is possible that I have a future again. Thank you Harry.”

Harry peered suspiciously at the man. He didn’t look any happier, but then he supposed that Snape and happy were misnomers. He’d never really seen the man look anything less than pissed off, certainly not in Harry’s company. But now, whilst he didn’t exactly seem joyful or content, he did look a lot less fraught. He sat there, draped in black, dark eyes taking in the room, seemingly curious as to Harry’s living arrangements and occasionally glancing at Harry.

Harry sat back against the sofa and looked at the room himself, trying to see it through Snape’s eyes. He hadn’t furnished it, it had been like this when he arrived. But it was far more to his taste than the shared flat with Ginny had been. She had liked chintzy furniture and ornaments and Harry had never known where to sit.

The room did have some of Harry’s favourite photos pinned up, and some drawings that Dean had done for him, an invitation to a Hogmanay party at the Weasley’s and, of course, his Christmas tree. Far too big and slightly askew, it filled one corner of the room, reflecting the firelight, dressed as it was in tinsel and glass baubles. 

He noticed Snape gazing at the tree, but couldn’t read his expression. “I’m sorry, but I don’t have any present for you under there. I didn’t know you were coming.”

Snape just looked at him steadily as if he were a particularly interesting potions ingredient.

Harry shifted uncomfortably on the sofa, his leg was not quite touching Snape’s and he felt deeply uncomfortable. He took another gulp of the whisky and shuddered as it burned his throat on the way down.

“I think you had me to rights before,” he said finally. “I’m nothing special. If I was I wouldn’t keep disappointing people and I wouldn’t even be here tonight.”

“Why are you here? Why aren’t you with the clan Weasley?” Snape actually sounded somewhat interested.

“I’m not wanted there.”

“Knowing the Weasleys I find that very hard to believe. You are their hero and they adore you, in that sickeningly effusive way of theirs.”

“They are fond of me, I think,” Harry said sadly, “but they are fonder of Ginny.”

“So the _‘Greatest Love Story of Our Time’_ is no more?” Snape asked.

Harry winced. “That was what _The Daily Prophet_ had called their relationship, usually accompanying a photo of he and Ginny and full reporting of her ready opinion on any number of given and obscure topics. He wondered if they were still consulting her, but Harry had stopped reading the filthy rag months ago.”

“It wasn’t like that.” Harry’s voice was flat and without inflection.

“I’m sure it wasn’t.” Snape almost sounded sorry.

Harry nearly laughed at that; Snape sympathetic towards _him?_

But when he glanced up, there was indeed sympathy in those dark, velvet eyes. And Harry felt his own eyes sting with bitter tears.

“Yeah, well, it doesn’t matter anymore anyway.”

Snape leaned back against the cushions and regarded Harry steadily. “Do you want to tell me about it?”

“What?”

“I asked if you would like to tell me about it.” 

Now Harry knew he looked gormless, he couldn’t quite believe Snape was asking him about his personal problems. Was he in a parallel world? Maybe there was something in the whisky? Harry didn’t know what to say, so he just stared at Snape.

“Potter, you have done a lot for me tonight, the very least I can do is to listen to whatever is so obviously bothering you.”

Harry still couldn’t speak.

“I’ve heard it all over the years, Potter.” Snape sounded more like his usual bad-tempered self, “I was head of Slytherin house for a long time. I have had occasion to listen to many problems, and to offer solutions. You will not find me unsympathetic should you wish to discuss what is troubling you.”

“Um, thanks.” Harry finally found his voice, after what seemed like years. He was astonished. In his own very stiff, formal way, Snape was trying to help him. He always previously felt that he had to be the positive one and comfort others. Harry suspected that even Kingsley had only asked him how he was because he was worried about Harry’s work performance, though he was probably being unfair. Kingsley did like him, he knew. It was just that Snape didn’t seem to have a reason for offering his help; Harry had already told him that he didn’t owe him anything.

Harry took another drink and shuddered as the liquid burned his tongue.

“I’m gay,” he breathed out, with the spirit’s burn in every syllable.

Snape didn’t say anything. Harry looked up and met Snape’s eyes. They didn’t seem to hold any approbation, simply gazed at him calmly, and he felt heartened enough that he began to breathe normally again. 

“Ginny always said that I was deficient in bed, she said I was bloody useless in fact.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth Harry winced, how could he have said that? Now Snape would have the perfect ammunition to taunt him, handed out on a platter, even. But he had to tell someone. Ginny’s words had been eating away at him ever since she shouted them at him all those weeks ago. He hadn’t told anyone else, he hurt too much.

“You shouldn’t take Miss Weasley’s words to heart, Harry. You are very young, I’m sure that you will,…improve as you mature. Just because you and Miss Weasley are not compatible, it does not necessarily follow that you are gay.”

“But it’s more than that, Professor. Ginny knew loads more than me, she said that I was the worst boy she’d ever been with. She said that I couldn’t kiss and I couldn’t get her aroused,” Harry said, his misery evident.

Snape’s gaze softened. “Harry, whatever happened between you and Miss Weasley, it was not your fault.” 

“But it was my fault, ‘cause however much I tried I couldn’t fancy Ginny, and I did try. But I _am_ gay. I like men, I always have, I only realised recently ‘cause I never got time to think about it. I could only do it at all with Ginny if I pictured…”… _you!_ Harry gasped. He’d been about to say ‘you’, he hadn’t realised it, he’d not even noticed that Snape, greasy git, mean old bat, was Harry’s perfect type. The Half-Blood Prince! Deep down, without him ever having known, he’d become Harry’s ideal man.

“Oh my God, Snape, I fancy you,” he blurted. 

Snape looked stunned, his eyes wide and staring.

“Sorry, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean that – I mean I did – you’re dead sexy, but I only just realised it. I didn’t _know._ ” 

“You think I am sexy?” Snape asked, still stunned.

“Well _yeah!_ You have that gorgeous hair, and your _eyes!_ ” Harry shivered. “They are just so, God, what’s the word? Unfathomable, that’s it! I never know what you’re thinking. They are so black. And your hands, I’d never really realised how much I liked them. Your fingers are so elegant and long and slim. And the way you move is so graceful. The way you always did that swishy thing with your robe, the way you lift one eyebrow when you think something’s ridiculous. God you’ve been fuelling my fantasies for _years_ and I never realised.”

“Is this a joke, Potter?” Snape’s tone was icy.

“Oh shit! Sorry.” 

Snape stood stiffly. “Perhaps I should be leaving after all.”

“No, please don’t. I didn’t mean to blurt that stuff out!” Harry glared at what was left of his whisky. “I’m not joking, I do think you’re sexy. But it’s okay, I wouldn’t do anything. You’re completely safe.”

Snape looked confused, but he did sit down again. Harry thought he was obviously doing well tonight. In six years of school Harry had only managed to provoke the man to fury and disdain, but since he’d decided to rescue Snape from the storm he’d managed to generate confusion, sympathy, politeness and total shock, all in the space of a couple of hours. Of course there had been disdain and fury too, so some things didn’t change.

“It’s not a joke?” Snape looked suspicious. He quirked an eyebrow and Harry shivered, that sexy eyebrow gesture was something he’d forgotten to mention, or had he?

“Nope. Not a joke.”

“And you are not planning to do anything?” Snape was smirking now, a glitter of amusement in his eyes.

Harry relaxed and grinned back, this was fun! Being with Snape in this mood was really enjoyable, which was a huge surprise to Harry. Harry liked being teased.

“You are safe with me.” Harry put his hand to his chest with a dramatic flourish. “Gryffindor’s honour.”

Snape’s smirk grew wider. “Pity.”

Harry felt like he’d been hit with a bludger. “What!” he squeaked, “What did you say?”

Snape moved closer to Harry, he allowed his hand to brush against Harry’s leg, sending a frisson of shock up Harry’s spine. “I insinuated that I would not be adverse to a little seduction, Harry.” 

“Well, fuck me!” Harry said,

“As you asked so nicely, Potter, how could I possibly say no?”

Snape tangled his hands in Harry’s hair and pulled him closer, then claimed Harry’s mouth in a punishing kiss. 

Harry groaned and leant into the Snape’s embrace. It was amazing, fabulous. The best kiss he had ever had. He lifted his own hand, meaning to stroke Snape’s hair in return, but Snape deepened the kiss and forced his tongue into Harry’s mouth. In the end all that Harry could do was wave ineffectually at empty air. 

He didn’t know how long they stayed like that, he only knew it was the most wonderful thing that had ever happened to him. When Snape stopped, Harry whimpered.

“Oh, Merlin!” Harry breathed, “That was, that was… _amazing!_ Wow, just wow! You’re a very good kisser, Snape.”

“I would say you have a modicum of talent in that area yourself, Harry.”

“But Ginny said...” Snape frowned and placed a finger on Harry’s lips.

“Hush. You are not to speak that hussy’s name in front of me. Especially when we are making love.”

“We are going to make love?” Harry thought his voice sounded ridiculously high and squeaky.

“If you wish it Mr Potter.”

“Oh God, Snape! I so do.” At that moment a little insecurity again bled through the haze of pleasure. “But hang on a minute. This is a bit quick isn’t it? I mean earlier tonight you were ready to hex me and now you want to sleep with me?”

Snape sighed. He leaned over and removed Harry’s glasses, gently brushing Harry’s hair out of his eyes.

“Harry, I am a Slytherin. Despite popular opinion, that does not equate to being evil, however it does to being an opportunist. You want to make love, I want to make love. You are very attractive, you are a man, which is the gender I most prefer to have sex with, and, you are a very powerful wizard. I would have to be completely stupid to turn down an experience like this.”

“Oh,” Harry said, “But what if you hate it, what if I’m not very good, like Ginny said?”

“Harry, do shut up. I do not want to hear what that chit said, you are not to mention her name again, do you understand?”

For once in his life, Harry did as he was told. “Yes,” he said simply. “I won’t mention her.” That didn’t mean he wouldn’t think about her though.

Slowly, so slowly they undressed each other. The room was almost totally dark, apart from a few candles and the flickering light from the fire. The warm glow bathed them, painting shadows and hollows on their skin, enhancing their explorations. Harry had been right: Snape was beautiful. His chest was firm and strong, his stomach taught, his thighs long and slim, like his hands; hands that explored Harry, tweaking his nipples, stroking, caressing. Tender touches followed by tiny kisses, until both of them sat before the other, totally naked with nothing left to hide.

“Oh Snape!” Harry whispered, “You are so beautiful.”

“And you have woeful eyesight without the use of your glasses, do you not?”

Harry snorted, “Shut-up you, I can see well enough.”

Snape chuckled and Harry could have hugged himself with glee. This was what he’d hoped for when he made love, this warmth, this kindness. He didn’t feel inadequate, not yet at least. He felt a part of something for once.

Snape pulled Harry close and kissed him again, and Harry shivered. The feel of Snape’s naked skin against Harry’s own was unutterably delicious.

“Harry,” Snape breathed, nibbling Harry’s ear very gently. “I would like you to make love to me.”

For a second Harry panicked, thinking that he always screwed up and he didn’t want that, not this time. 

“Do you have any lubricant?” Snape asked. “I’m afraid I didn’t come prepared.”

“Oh, er…right. There’s some in the drawer of my bedside table,” he replied, blushing. “I’ll… I’ll go and get it.”

Snape chuckled again. “Potter, are you or are you not, a wizard?”

“Oh yeah. Erm…hang on a mo.” Harry concentrated and a second later a jar of lubricant was sitting on his outstretched palm.

Snape’s eyes widened again. “Impressive magic, Mr Potter, silent and wandless, perhaps you have learned a thing or two since I saw you last.”

Harry wanted to say something witty that would make Snape laugh, but he wasn’t very good at that sort of thing so he settled for asking.

“So what do we do now then?”

Snape’s smirk was almost tender. “Harry, you are unbelievably sweet, such a delight.” Harry flushed. But Snape didn’t seem to be teasing him, instead he turned over on the sofa to that his arse was exposed. A beautiful arse. Slim like the rest of him, his skin was pale and inviting.

He looked back over his shoulder at Harry, dark eyes sparkling fiercely in the firelight.

“Now, Harry, we make love.”

For a moment Harry was too stunned to do anything, and then tentatively he put out a hand and touched the other man, eliciting a delicious shiver.

“I never thought you’d let me be in charge,” Harry said with astonishment, “You’ve done this before after all whereas I haven’t.”

“It’s not a matter of who’s in charge, Harry.”

“But when I read about this sort of thing…” Harry blushed a bright, brick-red, “… when I read about it, the book said there were ‘tops’ and ‘bottoms’. I never thought you’d let me be the top.”

Snape looked back over his shoulder at Harry again, one eyebrow raised enquiringly. “In a loving relationship, two men often take turns. I find it equally pleasurable to be ‘the bottom’ as to be ‘the top’. It’s about sharing, Harry, finding what is pleasurable for both of you.” He paused, and his voice lowered to a velvet trickle. “Besides I have missed having a cock up my arse and, as you have not yet had the pleasure, you are hardly likely to know what you are missing.”

He turned and pushed himself up onto one elbow, then reached up to caress Harry’s cheek so gently that Harry felt overwhelmed. “We will try it the other way, soon. Sometime when I am a little less…” he smirked, “a little less eager.”

“Are you eager then?” Harry gasped, sitting back on his heels and looking down at the other man.

“Isn’t it obvious, Harry?”

Harry blushed again. He wasn’t a kid, but this whole thing was so weird, and he knew exactly what Snape was referring to. When he’d turned over to look at Harry he’d exposed his penis which was very evidently rock-hard and weeping pre-come from the tip. Harry had seen plenty of cocks in his time, he’d attended a boarding school after all, but he’d never seen one quite that aroused before, other than his own that was.

“Erm…can I touch it?” he asked 

Snape looked at him in a way that Harry thought was almost kindly. “Of course you may Harry, you may touch any part of me that you wish, I would like you to in fact.”

“But Ginny never…” Harry began and then he blushed again. “Sorry, I said that I wouldn’t mention her again.”

The older man had sat up; he wrapped his arms around Harry tenderly and pulled him close. “You haven’t exactly had the best experiences, have you? Lovers enjoy touching each other, every part of each other.” 

“I know that!” Harry was indignant; did the man think him a total idiot? Harry felt himself blush again.

“Do you?” Snape’s voice was soft and gentle. He wrapped his hand round Harry’s smaller one and moved it to press against his penis. Harry almost pulled his hand away; it was on Snape’s cock! But after a brief, split-second panic, he relaxed. It felt different from his own cock, longer and slimmer, and he loved the sounds that Snape made when he started to stroke it. Ginny would never touch Harry there and she never wanted him to touch her anywhere intimate either, but Snape was practically purring.

In fact Snape was panting now as Harry continued to stroke him, and Harry almost giggled at the thrill of power as the other man began to groan softly. It was easier with a man, Harry found. If he just did what he liked, then that seemed to elicit the most delicious sounds from Snape. Finally the other man spoke. His voice sounded breathy and strangled.

“Harry, if you don’t stop that now, then I am going to come, I can’t hold out much longer.”

“What if I want you to come?” Harry asked imperiously.

“Wanted to…with you…wanted to come…with you inside me!” Snape gasped.

“Oh. Oh alright then, why don’t you lie back down?” Harry was beside himself. He’d never had this effect on Ginny and she’d always hinted that Harry was deficient in some way, she’d had so many boyfriends before and Harry could never seem to do anything right. But Snape was most definitely very aroused, so he obviously didn’t seem to think that Harry was deficient. 

Harry looked at the other man’s face. Dark lashes, surprisingly long, framed Snape’s eyes, eyes that were sparkling with lust. His cheeks were washed with pink and his lips were parted. Harry thought he looked blissful and he felt a strange surge of pride. Harry’d done that. He maybe wasn’t so bad in bed after all.

Snape had laid himself prone again, resting his head on crossed arms. Harry wanted to kiss him, wished that he _had_ kissed him, before he’d turned around again. So he placed a gentle kiss on Snape’s backside, then deciding he liked the taste he tried a little lick, and then another. Snape whimpered and Harry smiled, because the other man had said that this was okay, and he hadn’t pushed Harry off yet, like Ginny always did. 

Harry grew bolder. He started to run the back of his hand along the smooth globes of Snape’s buttocks. When Snape wriggled deliciously, Harry grinned, suddenly rather smug. Harry continued to stroke the man and then he leaned down and kissed a trail from the top of Snape’s buttocks along his spine. 

Snape gave a sort of strangled growl. “Potter, if you don’t get on with it I am going to come all over this bloody sofa!”

“Oh!” Harry said, “Right! What do I do next then?” Snape peered back over his shoulder at him. “You need to lubricate your fingers, Harry, and put them inside me.”

“Inside you?” Harry thought he sounded like a total idiot. “In your…in your…bum?”

“Yes, inside my anus, Harry. Don’t worry, I am clean.”

“Oh…right. Um, it’s not that, it’s just, I won’t hurt you will I?”

Snape looked at him more kindly than Harry thought possible for the man. “I want you to, Harry. You need to loosen me up, so that I’m ready for you. You need to stop worrying and just do what feels good, you won’t hurt me, I promise.”

Harry couldn’t look at the other man, he felt like such a fool, so gauche and inexperienced. 

“Harry?” Snape’s voice was soft, caring. 

“I don’t know what you are doing with me. I’m such a fucking prat! I don’t know anything, nothing at all.”

“Harry, it’s all right, it will be all right.” Snape had sat up again, he tilted Harry’s chin so that he could look at him and then placed a gentle kiss on Harry’s mouth. “I am enjoying this very much, I am enjoying _you_. Your inexperience is charming and very much of a turn-on.”

“Do you mean that?” Harry blurted.

“Of course I do, I wouldn’t have said it otherwise.”

“It’s just that you are being so nice and that’s not like you. You’re being so patient and I know I’m pants at this sort of thing. But you were never like this at school.”

“Of course I wasn’t you foolish boy. If I had tried to seduce you like this when you were back at school Albus would have had my arse in Azkaban so fast my head would have been spinning.”

Harry laughed. The thought of Severus Snape, his head spinning around and Albus’ fury at Harry being corrupted was just too ridiculous to contemplate.

Severus stroked his hair and crinkled his eyes at Harry in a sort of smile.

“You are delicious, Harry, a total delight. Now if you don’t hurry up and fuck me then I will put you over my lap and spank you till you scream.”

Harry blushed, from the tips of his ears to the tips of his toes. His cock, which had been getting a little deflated suddenly decided to rejoin the party and within seconds Harry was harder than he’d ever known he could be. Snape smirked and lay back down, he wiggled his arse in Harry’s direction. As if to say _“get the fuck on with it!”_ So Harry did. 

He dipped his fingers into the tub of lube and coated them liberally. Cautiously he pushed the tip of his index finger into the perfect rosebud that was Snape’s arse. It went in so easily! Snape moaned and Harry almost came there and then. Seeing his finger disappear inside the other man was unbelievably erotic.

“Oh God!” he breathed. Snape was so hot and so velvety inside. The man’s guardian ring contracted and Harry’s gasp echoed Snape’s own.

Buoyed up by his success Harry inserted his middle finger too, watching both digits as they were swallowed up by Snape’s arse. He wanted that, he wanted to be inside Snape. He wanted his cock to be inside him.

Next he tried three fingers and then four. He made sure to use lots of lubrication, using his other hand to gently massage Severus’ bottom, occasionally leaning down to place a kiss or a tiny lick on those pale perfect globes. Severus made a sound that was suspiciously like a sob.

“Oh Merlin, Harry, please.” He was begging now, pleading with Harry to come inside him. Harry removed his fingers, continuing to stroke his lover with his other hand. He wanted to keep contact with Severus’ skin, even as he ensured that his cock was smothered in lubricant, not wanting to hurt him. 

Severus whimpered and shifted beneath his tender touches. Harry moved so that he was straddling the other man. Just for a second he felt a surge of panic. He looked so big and the other man looked so small beneath him, he was never going to fit.

“Please,” Severus said, his voice little more than a whispered plea.

Harry closed his eyes, placed the tip of his cock against that beautiful opening and pushed.

For a moment he truly thought he wasn’t going to fit, then Severus’ guardian ring gave way to this much larger intrusion and Harry was inside. Severus screamed and pushed back against Harry, impaling himself on Harry’s cock. 

Harry had never felt anything like it before, that tight silky heat. He sobbed this time and then Severus moved. “Oh my dear Gods!” 

Severus breathed, “Oh yes, my Harry, that’s right, like that!” The last word was strangled, tight.

Harry moved again.

“Yessss.” Severus breathed. “Harder, Harry, please harder.” Harry pulled out and then pushed back in once more.

“Guh!” Severus had lost the power of speech. Harry almost chuckled, almost. It had never been like this, making love. He had never been able to bring pleasure like this, not like he was doing for Severus. It was heady this new ability of his. It was something he had never known before, not with Ginny anyhow. He thrust again, and again. Severus screamed once more and it was as if Harry’s cock was in a vice. Severus was writhing beneath him, spasming. It was the most intense satisfaction Harry had ever known and for a fleeting moment he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, it was as if he was frozen in time. Then Harry’s world pulsated with light and he was coming, inside his lover, more gloriously than he had ever thought possible. 

He must have passed out, because when he opened his eyes again he was lying on top of his lover. He ran a hand over the man’s back; it was damp with their pleasure, glistening with sweat. Harry kissed Severus tenderly.

Sometime in the last few moments Harry had finally become a man. He had found a confidence that he didn’t know he had and sometime, somehow Severus had stopped being Snape to Harry and had become his lover. _His lover!_

Harry chuckled.

“Hmprph?” Severus was beyond speech it seemed. 

“That was ab-so-fucking-lutely wonderful!” Harry said.

“Umhm.”

Harry lifted up and Severus rolled over beneath him. He raised an eyebrow, laconically. “I’m guessing you are a cuddler? Hmm?”

Harry nodded, suddenly shy again.

Snape shifted on the sofa, so that he was propped up against the softer occasional cushions. He smirked at Harry, but there was no cruelty in the expression; it was possessive and almost painfully tender. He opened his arms wide and Harry almost threw himself into them.

“Thank you, Harry Potter.” Snape placed a kiss on Harry’s head. “You don’t know how much you have done for me tonight.” His fingers were tangled in Harry’s hair, it was wrapped around them, pulled tightly as if forbidding Harry to move.

“I should be thanking you,” Harry insisted, “I never knew it could be like that, I thought that I was crappy at this sort of thing, Ginny always said...”

“Shhh.” Severus placed an imperious finger on Harry’s lips. “I must tell you now, that the next time I see Miss Weasley I will be hard pressed not to hex her within an inch of her life.”

“But it’s not Ginny’s fault if I’m not very good in bed!”

“Firstly Mr. Potter, whatever gives you the idea that you are not good in bed? You are tender and loving and generous, you are one of the very best lovers that I have ever had. You are merely inexperienced, and skill will come.”

Harry opened his mouth to deny any such thing, but Snape shushed him again.

“But if…by any chance you were not a good lover, then that would not have been your fault. From what you have said, Miss Weasley was far more experienced than you. She should have told you what she needed and wanted, just as I did. She is spoiled and selfish and you will give your unfortunate interactions with her no more thought, not while you are with me at least. Your relationship with her will play no part in your relationship with me.”

Harry let out a breath that he didn’t know he was holding. “Is it a relationship then? Do you want it to be?”

“I do, Harry, very much so.” Then tentatively, “And what about you, do you want more from this?”

“Oh, yes please.”

Severus grasped Harry’s face, held it tight in his hands and kissed him. Deeply, passionately, possessively and Harry, Harry kissed him back.

 

**********

 

“What time is it now, do you think?” Harry asked. It was much, much later and they were cuddled underneath a crocheted blanket, Mrs Weasley had made him. A sudden thought of telling her the use to which it had been put flittered through his mind and he smiled. They were watching the flickering flames as they died down a little, sending shadows chasing across the ceiling and causing the glittering tinsel on the tree in the corner to sparkle madly.

“I have no idea,” Severus said. “I don’t really care either.”

Harry nuzzled against the man, he had never felt so content, he sighed happily.

“How did I get to be so lucky?”

“Woefully low expectations, perhaps?” 

“No silly,” Harry said, smacking Severus’ torso lightly. He completely ignored the part of his brain that was screaming in horror at the imposition against someone who might well kill him slowly. But that wasn’t true anymore was it? As Severus proved by taking Harry’s hand in his own and kissing the back of it.

“It is almost the Feast of Stephen,” he whispered, kissing the palm of Harry’s hand this time.

“What does that mean?”

“I had nowhere to turn tonight, Harry.” Severus’ voice was soft, “I was close to giving up and I had a potion ready when you knocked on the door. I was fully prepared to drink it; the cup was to my lips. I simply didn’t want to be here anymore.”

“No!” Harry gasped, horrified.

Snape silenced him with another kiss. “Hush, it is alright now. You came, and you saved me, rode over my objections with your bullish Gryffindor obstinacy. I simply didn’t have the strength to resist. Then you thanked me and forgave me and then you let me kiss you, make love to you. You said earlier that you were sorry that there wasn’t a present for me under your tree, but don’t you realise what you have given me? Harry, whatever happens now you’ve given me a future.” 

“I don’t know about that.” Harry was scathing, “and I don’t understand the allusion to the Feast of Stephen?”

“I was the lowly peasant, you are the noble king. Through your generosity I have found blessing, and maybe you will too.”

“But I have found blessing!” Harry said, “I feel very blessed.”

“Good,” Severus whispered.

“But I haven’t been generous and I didn’t do anything that good. It was McGonagall’s idea, she manipulated me, remember?”

“Harry, Minerva, didn’t do anything. Tonight, what we have had tonight, came from your generosity, your kindness. Her only manipulation came because she knew you so well, and knew that you would not stand for injustice. She just allowed you to find me. You saved me tonight.”

“But you’ve saved me loads of times, I owed you – I still owe you.”

“You owe me nothing Harry. You paid your debts when you killed The Dark Lord.”

“Then what was this?”

“Making love, learning about each other. The start, perhaps of something more permanent.”

“Can we do it again, do you want to?”

“Harry, it is as if my wildest dreams have just come true, I cannot believe this to be real.”

“But I’m not very special and I wasn’t very good.”

“Harry! Miss Weasley, will find out powerful my Bat-Bogey hex is when I see her next. You were wonderful and loving and more impossibly precious than you will ever know. If it were up to me this would be the start of something new, of a new future for both of us.”

“I’d like that too.”

Severus sighed. 

Finally, seeming to relax completely for the first time on this particular day, Severus pulled Harry closer to him as they stared into the fire. Harry leaned back against him, luxuriating in the comfort that his lover offered. 

“I’ve never felt like this before,” Harry said.

“Nor have I, Harry.”

“They came from nowhere, didn’t they, these feelings?”

“Did they, do you not think that our relationship has always been a turbulent one?”

Harry sat up, and stared at the man who had recently become his lover. “But we hated each other!”

“Did we Harry? We certainly had very strong feelings for each other. It’s a cliché that love and hate are very close to each other, but clichés are only clichés because they are so very true.”

He paused for a moment, taking a deep breath, seeming to steady himself. He closed his eyes and took another breath before looking directly into Harry’s eyes. “At first, you were just a child and I thought of you as such; a child who resembled his father far too much for my liking.” Harry closed his eyes, here it came. Rejection. Harry was used to that. “But then you grew up, Harry. I watched you from a distance for all of that year you hunted the Horcruxes, and in that year you became a man. A very desirable man. Not one I ever thought would look at me.”

Harry reached out and cupped Severus’ cheek. “Maybe I wouldn’t have done if it hadn’t been for today, for tonight. I saw you differently, maybe I saw you today for the very first time. You are beautiful, Severus.”

“Do you really think that, Harry?”

Harry nodded and then he leaned over and kissed Severus gently on the lips. Severus lips curved in a hesitant smile. “It’s a night for honesty then?” Harry said, snuggling back down against his new lover. 

“Well in that case,” Severus said, so softly that Harry wasn’t totally certain that the man had actually spoken. “I think I could come to love you, eventually, one day perhaps.” 

Harry gasped, Snape always had been the bravest man that he had ever known and to announce such a thing, when there was the strong possibility that he might be rejected was bravery indeed and hardly very Slytherin.

But then maybe it wasn’t such a gamble. Harry knew that he was transparent to Snape, always had been. Harry had never been able to fool the man, nor less hide anything from him.

“That’s strange.” Harry said, tilting his head so that he locked his gaze with Severus’, refusing to look away, for surely Harry was almost as brave as Snape was. “That’s very strange indeed. Because I now know that I could come to love you too.” 

Snape smiled again, fleetingly. But for a brief moment it transformed him, that smile. It made him look younger and it allowed Harry to see again the beauty that he’d already glimpsed several times in the last few hours. Harry turned slightly so that he could tilt his chin up to look at his lover and the smile turned triumphant as Snape leaned down and claimed Harry’s mouth in yet another fierce and loving kiss.

 

**********

 

Outside the snow still fell heavily. Earlier the evening had been clear, but it had only been a lull in the storm it seemed. Down the hill in Hogsmeade, Aberforth Dumbledore, brother of the late and much lamented headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, threw open the doors of the Three Broomsticks and welcomed in a group of carol singers, collecting funds for St Mungo’s. The patrons nursed their Butterbeers and their firewhiskys closer and nodded sleepily next to the fire. The singers were very late in the season and for the time of night, but it didn’t seem to matter, for the song they sang was far more suitable for the day after Christmas anyway. And even against the raging storm outside the voices of the assembled choir rang out clear and strong in the warm, fuggy atmosphere of the inn.

Good King Wenceslas looked out  
On the feast of Stephen  
When the snow lay round about  
Deep and crisp and even  
Brightly shone the moon that night  
Though the frost was cruel  
When a poor man came in sight  
Gath'ring winter fuel

"Hither, page, and stand by me  
If thou know'st it, telling  
Yonder peasant, who is he?  
Where and what his dwelling?"  
"Sire, he lives a good league hence  
Underneath the mountain  
Right against the forest fence  
By Saint Agnes' fountain."

"Bring me flesh and bring me wine  
Bring me pine logs hither  
Thou and I will see him dine  
When we bear him thither."  
Page and monarch forth they went  
Forth they went together  
Through the rude wind's wild lament  
And the bitter weather

"Sire, the night is darker now  
And the wind blows stronger  
Fails my heart, I know not how,  
I can go no longer."  
"Mark my footsteps, my good page  
Tread thou in them boldly  
Thou shalt find the winter's rage  
Freeze thy blood less coldly."

In his master's steps he trod  
Where the snow lay dinted  
Heat was in the very sod  
Which the Saint had printed  
Therefore, Christian men, be sure  
Wealth or rank possessing  
Ye who now will bless the poor  
Shall yourselves find blessing


End file.
